Burning

The persecution burns deeply within, not a man-made, not a societal quandary but one of self affliction and demise.  The pool of tears has long since become a trail of blood leaving in its wake a forever haunting past and muddy future.  What is one to do when the newspaper of your life is blown into your face, and everyone has read it.  When the only solace of the world is found in a twisted nightmare you can only wait to lie on your soft pillow.  The heart beats and cries for love, truth, justice, and pursuit of happiness; when the brain, the cognitive machine pollutes the very soul and reality against the true desires of the heart.  Why can't the cognitive machine change its face when its current drive causes nothing but heartache.  Where's the out, wheres the fix.  I know Heavenly Father loves me very much, but what do you do when you want one thing and refuse to accept any part of the other no matter what and I will fight to the death to overcome.